


Oleander

by Chipper_Daily



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angsty Schmoop, Codependency, Dark, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Not a Love Story, Obsession, Unhealthy Relationships, red flags abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chipper_Daily/pseuds/Chipper_Daily
Summary: Some foundations are too deeply damaged to build anything stable on; No matter how hard you try the only outcome is for it all to come crashing down.(AKA a deep dive on how obsession may be mistaken for love, but it's REALLY not the same thing.)
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 137





	Oleander

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the first prompt for zadr week; phase 2- Confession  
... I assume they were imagining something a little more light-hearted when they came up with that one...  
Hey, I made a playlist if you're looking for something to help set the mood: [Oleander on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JeyGLWeETRX9DKSuW0Kdw?si=2_8RXjfpR_uFmsowR7RryQ)

He awoke abruptly before the pod had even finished draining. Dib flailed out into the darkness, his knuckles and knees cracking against the metal hatch in raw, instinctual panic. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt, if anything. All he could recall before this moment of blind fear was total, all-consuming, darkness, a void from which nothing escaped. Still, horror remained. The hatch swung open with a soft hiss and Dib bolted upright from his claustrophobic holding to desperately gulp the sweet air beyond, his knuckles white against the edges of the pod. 

It took him a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart before he attempted to take stock of his blurry surroundings, his mind already racing to make sense of the situation. But there was… nothing. Dib pressed a hand to his forehead, curling his fingers into his wet hair so tight it actually hurt, but nothing came. His brow furrowed, warm brown eyes rapidly flicked back and forth, unseeing- there was _not__hing. _His heart fluttered anxiously in his chest as he felt his breaths come quick and shallow. He knew- he knew he was Dib, but it was like a thick, black curtain had been tightly drawn beyond that. 

“You are so melodramatic, just, all the time, you know that, right?” Dib ripped his hand away from his face with a startled cry as his gaze whipped towards the sound of the stranger’s flat voice. He squinted, everything was so _blurry,_ as the same voice, belonging to a fuzzy pink blob nestled into what was probably a chair at his side, released a heavy, put-upon sigh. Its blurry arm moved in a lazy underhand motion and Dib jolted as something small and light land in his lap. Upon closer inspection, it was a pair of glasses, which he sheepishly put on, the twisted shadows around him jumping to sudden, sharp focus. 

Sure enough, the voice belonged to a small, vibrantly green boy in a magenta tunic, sitting crossed-legged in a plush chair with his arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed look etched into his strangely ageless face. 

Dib also became keenly aware that he was naked in his little pod. 

He felt his face flinch into an embarrassed grimace before he could entirely stop it. His expression froze into an awkwardly forced, shaky grin as Dib did his best to make it seem like he was _casually _covering his unmentionables with one hand as the other dropped to _casually_ lean against the edge of the pod. 

“So, uh,” Dib gestured vaguely around him with the hand not currently covering his shame. “What is all this?” 

His unknown visitor responded with an explosive “_Ugh!_” before Dib could even finish, his huge, almond-shaped eyes rolling so hard his whole head rolled with them, his small, three-fingered hands tightening defensively around his scrawny arms. 

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Dib-stink.” Dib blinked in surprise at the sudden onslaught as the much smaller boy huffed indignantly and pulled himself up from his chair. He took a moment to straighten the hem of his uniform before pinning Dib with an imperious look. “I am the incredible Zim, and all_ you _ need to know is that I saved your miserable and entirely unworthy life.” Zim’s lips pulled back into a cruel grin, his eyes shining in the low light, something dark and smug curling in his tone. “Which makes you my _property,_ Dib-thing.” 

Dib felt his lip curl into a sneer, because _ that _ didn’t seem right, but froze, his eyes widening with the sudden realization.

Everything that had happened to him before this room, this conversation, this moment, was gone, hidden away behind the thick fog that filled his head and smothered any and all memories but two:

His name is Dib.

And Zim is his Master.

<strike> _ that didn’t seem right though _ </strike>

“What happened to me?” Dib’s voice was low, hushed, the stirrings of unease making his heart flutter beneath his ribs again as he desperately searched Zim’s large eyes, new, alien, yet undeniably familiar in a way that put him on edge.

Zim’s expression darkened as he met and held Dib’s probing gaze, his lips pinched into a thin line and his shoulders bunched before he answered in a cold whisper.

“Stay out of the engine room. Your ugly, pulpy body isn’t designed to go in there.” 

Dib swallowed thickly. Something about the smaller boy’s tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Dib gruffly croaked. “Noted.” 

Zim nodded slightly before he abruptly spun on his heel and rigidly marched away with a dismissive hand wave. 

“Your uniform is over there, Dib-slave, hurry up and get dressed. We run a tight ship here, and you have MUCH to do.” 

\---

Dib heaved a deep sigh against the cold stainless steel counter, his head resting heavily on his crossed arms and bored gaze drifting. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dib to learn that Zim was absolutely lying on both fronts.

First, he learned that the ‘we’ Zim had referred to meant _ just _ he and Zim. The rest of the small ship was empty, still, silent save for the rhythmic clunking that rang, muffled, through the engine room door when Dib strayed too close to the back of the ship. Frankly, the engine room was the only area that even _ had _a door, which was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing in that it made it very difficult for one to hide. 

It made it easy to quickly search the small, open concept vessel when the shapeless paranoia simmering beneath the heavy blanket that repressed his memories of before his accident spiked to the point Dib couldn’t focus on whatever mundane task Zim had assigned him. Not until he had assured himself that there was no one else; That it was just he and Zim, Dib was _safe._

It was also a curse in that it made it very difficult for one to hide. 

Dib had no idea if Zim had always been this much to handle and he’d somehow gotten used to it before he was slightly mulched or whatever in the engine room, or if Zim had gotten worse after Dib’s accident, but his ‘master’ (that still didn’t sound right, honestly) was just… a lot to deal with, a lot of the time. Zim had two volumes that Dib could identify; Loud and louder. And without any doors or walls to muffle his outbursts, the erratic little Irken was just. A LOT to deal with. Honestly, too much sometimes. They wound up bickering frequently, and Dib didn’t even have somewhere he could get away that Zim couldn’t follow to make sure he got the last word in.

Dib idly scratched the ridge in his neck beneath the high collar of his snug-fitting spacesuit. His wandering gaze traced lazily along the narrow counter and up the wall it was attached to, fixing for a moment on the tacky plastic tube vase screwed, crooked, into the wall. A sad cluster of five-petaled blossoms, flowers stark white against narrow, deep green leaves, drooped limply over the lip. Plastic. Fake. Dib’s disinterested gaze drifted on. The real flowers the crooked vase had been affixed to the wall to hold had withered and died long, long ago. Nothing organic could survive this deep in the cold void of space.

Nothing organic and unaugmented, at least. Dib leaned away from the counter to stretch his arms above his head with a yawn, his shoulder blades pressing against the cold, unyielding metal of his PAK before he leaned his elbows back against the table with a sigh. 

Zim had also been grossly exaggerating when he said Dib would have ‘much to do’. Zim didn’t trust Dib anywhere near the ship’s controls, and Dib apparently couldn’t withstand whatever lurked behind the door to the engine room either, so that left him with… Sweeping. Laundry on the rare times it was needed. Cleaning up when they bothered to make food (typically warming pre-made snacks from a wrapper). Bitch work that Zim was more than capable of doing himself. The little Irken had literally no excuse to have a ‘slave’ (admittedly not that Zim really treated Dib like a slave, more like an annoying roommate). Dib rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the countertop. Outside of the bragging rights, of course. Gloating seemed to be one of Zim’s favourite pastimes. 

And, unfortunately, it felt like they had nothing _ but _time to pass.

\---

It wasn’t all bad, though.

Time didn’t really mean anything out here, there were no suns or moons to mark the passage of hours as they rocketed through the utter emptiness between solar systems to a destination Zim kept a staunch secret. Their PAKs ensured neither Zim or Dib would ever be bothered by hunger or exhaustion, so he didn’t have his own biology to track the passage of time either. Things just happened when Zim said they should, and Dib was still trying to figure out whether that was because the little Irken was actually following some sort of schedule or making demands on a whim because he was bored/annoyed/etc. Either way, the two couldn’t pass ALL their time fighting. There were times when Zim’s edges softened, when Dib couldn’t stand being trapped with nothing but his own thoughts any longer, when they both craved contact with something solid- something real- in the smothering expanse of cold and silent eternity. And they only had each other to turn to.

Thus, Zim implemented movie night.

Zim claimed it was a weekly event, though Dib had no way of knowing if that were true or not, and the little Irken insisted it was a tradition of theirs from before Dib’s accident, though Dib had no way of knowing if that were true or not either. 

If he were honest, he would have to admit it was actually kind of… nice. At some point further back than Dib could remember, Zim had laid out a plush, soft foam mat across a shelf about as wide as a twin bed above the wall-mounted steel storage containers wedged up against their tiny shower stall. Out of the way, but easy enough to reach with PAK legs. 

The ceiling was too low to sit upright (for Dib at least), and the shelf was too narrow to allow for a lot of personal space, so they’d wind up curled under a soft woven blanket with Zim wedged under Dib’s arm and a tablet propped up on Dib’s stomach. 

His gaze kept slipping down to stare at the top of the little head tucked up against his side. Delicate, angular black antennae twitched against a green scalp with whatever was going through Zim’s thoughts, the Irken’s attention absorbed by what was happening on the screen.

At first, the forced intimacy felt awkward, but between the two of them it was deliciously warm beneath the fuzzy blanket, and it felt good to be able to fully lie down, his PAK sinking into the plush foam to the point Dib could almost forget it was there. Sometimes he even felt himself start to drift off, more from comfort than any biological necessity. Zim was warm in the crook of his arm, the foam soft beneath him, and the engines hummed somewhere at the edge of his awareness, leaving whatever horror had put him in the recovery pod far, far behind. Dib was _ safe_.

Other times Dib would watch with breathless, rapt attention, sharp gaze greedily drinking in every detail on the small screen with a strange nervousness, a gnawing emptiness in his chest. He felt himself clutch Zim a little bit tighter (_ solid, real, alive _) as he drank in five-fingered hands gesturing fluidly and pink lips hiding blunt straight teeth shaping foreign words that ached with a familiarity he couldn’t quite pin down. 

He was left jittery, anxious, on edge, each of the rare times Zim showed him a film where the actors looked like _ Dib_.

And Dib would pretend he didn’t notice the way Zim looked up at him, magenta eyes guarded, intently searching for who even knew what when Dib pulled him closer. Solid. Real. Alive. An anchor in the chaotic seas Dib found himself thrown into, the immense depths of what he’d lost only making itself known through a little screen. Glimpses of language, culture, _ humanity _ he’d been robbed that Dib didn’t know if he’d ever recover, while the engines roared into the uncaring void beyond. A threat; A promise- He’d had everything, everything, _ everything_, torn away from him before, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again?

\---

“Tell me about Earth.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Dib quirked an eyebrow up at his ‘master’ from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the base of the control panel as stars passed idly around them beyond the arching dome of the windshield, a note of challenge in his tone this time.

“Because I don’t want to, pig-smelly.” Zim’s snapped back, his tone curdling snidely in response to Dib’s probing. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, folding something? Anything _ besides _annoying me?” 

Dib responded with a short, disinterested hum as his head flopped back to lean against the control panel to watch the distant stars far, far above their small ship slip silently out past the edge of the window, never to be seen again. (Unless they’d flown this way before, Dib had no way of knowing and it’s not like Zim was eager to share.) 

Sometimes Zim _ was _eager to share, though. If Dib caught him in the right mood, Zim could be an open book, happily chattering on and on about whatever was on his mind. Places he’d explored throughout the cosmos, previous assignments passed on to him from his beloved leaders (the Tallests, whatever that meant), sometimes Earth, often about Dib himself. Back when they’d first met when Dib was still a smeet. The petty threats and playground games of their silly rivalry back when the Tallests had sent Zim on his most important secret mission. Because his leaders had adored him and knew any other Irken would fail if sent in Zim’s place. 

He would never divulge what his secret mission had been, and would grow quiet, moody, if Dib pressed the issue until they’d wind up fighting over it. All he’d ever say on the subject, when Dib would prod him about whether or not he succeeded, would be a dismissive “Zim always wins.” 

The silence stretched between them, but Dib made no move to get up off the floor. He knew Zim wouldn’t actually do anything to force him to fold laundry, and it felt strangely comforting to be near the little Irken beneath the yawning maw of cold eternity stretching endlessly around their small ship.

“We should go back sometime.” Dib finally broke the silence, musing softly as though he were speaking more to himself then Zim. “To Earth. Once we’re done with whatever we’re doing here, you know?” More stars slipped by while they both carefully didn’t meet each other’s gaze. Dib’s face split into a wolfish grin. “I want to see the tetherball pole I tied you to in fifth grade, space-boy.” His eyes slid from beyond the window to smugly eye up Zim. The Irken eventually turned to meet his gaze evenly before cracking a mean smile as well, his tone both cruel and playful.

“Only if we visit the boiler room where I stole your lungs too, Earth-boy.”

“You stole my _ what-? _”

\---

Tinny music crackled through hidden speakers as Dib aimlessly paroosed the snack aisle with an air of detached disinterest. On the one hand, it was nice to be able to actually get out of the ship every once in a while. On the other, there was only so much excitement to be found at a refuelling station. Dib hoped they would either get to wherever they were heading to soon, or that their next pit stop would be an actual planet. He was starting to worry that he’d wind up going legitimately stir crazy if they didn’t do something to break up the monotony of their venture soon. 

In the meanwhile, he supposed he could switch things up a bit by picking up ‘zesty’ Plooka Ploofs instead of the usual ‘spicy’ flavour. Variety was the spice of life, after all. Or something. 

The clerk greeted him with a smile as he brought an armful of snacks up to the counter. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The usual banter, same as every other refuelling station attendant.

“Yeah, sure.” Dib shrugged dismissively as he turned to look at the myriad of trashy magazines displayed behind the counter, the translator in his PAK making quick work of what at first glance appeared to be a snare of incoherent symbols in a rainbow of foreign languages. 

The clerk paused before ringing through the first bag of Plooka Ploofs, their one eye sweeping over Dib hesitantly before finally speaking. 

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, stranger, but I’ve never seen someone like you before-”

“That makes both of us.” Dib interjected in a clipped tone, his brown eyes flicked from the magazines to give the clerk a tight, mirthless smile before his gaze drifted away once more. The attendant blinked in surprise, their mouth left hanging for a moment before they awkwardly cleared their throat and turned back to ringing Dib’s purchases through. 

“Sorry, geez.” The clerk murmured softly and fell blissfully silent. 

\---

Dib stared thoughtfully at the small chip he’d used to pay for their snacks. The stars drifted past the dome window behind him where he sat on the floor, leaning against the base of the control panel. The chip was barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, a tiny fleck of silver embedded in the wrist of his spacesuit with the familiar insignia of the Irken Empire pressed into the surface. It was linked in some way to Zim’s accounts so Dib could pay for whatever treats or trinkets he wanted with just a wave of his hand. (Within reason, of course, Zim would lose it whenever Dib splurged a bit too much at any of their brief rest stops.)

“What was the currency like back on Earth?” Dib quirked an eyebrow as he twisted his wrist so his little chip could glint in the soft light.

“Garbage.” Zim scoffed from the pilot seat. Dib shot an annoyed look up at his ‘master’.

“I’m being serious, Zim.” 

“I don’t know, Dib-thing, they shuffled paper around like it was actually worth something. Humans are stupid.” Zim rolled his eyes. “Why do you even care?” 

“Because I _ am _ a human, remember?” Dib narrowed his eyes as his fists clenched against the floor. “And maybe I want to know what things are like, you know, back on my _ home planet_.” 

“You are SO ridiculous.” Zim sighed explosively and snapped his attention down to his servant. “Back on Earth, all you could talk about was how much you wanted to _ leave _ your smelly, backwater planet and see the rest of space.” Zim pointedly glared out the dome and dramatically flung his scrawny arms wide as though he could embrace the cold expanse of stars and darkness stretching endlessly before them. “Which you’re not even LOOKING AT,” Dib jutted his chin up petulantly as Zim continued his little tirade. “And now that we’re out here, you haven’t _ shut up _ about your filthy _ Earth_. Honestly, what does your primitive little monkey brain even _ want? _”

“I _ want _ to go _ home_.” Dib bared his teeth as Zim’s expression darkened dangerously. “Maybe I wanted to come out here before my accident, but now I-” Dib jerkily flailed his hands for a moment with a frustrated hiss, as though he could snatch the words that eluded him out of the air itself. “I lost _ everything_, Zim. I don’t- I don’t know who or _ what _I am, and, I dunno, maybe seeing something familiar will help bring some of it back?”

“You’re the Dib.” Zim’s voice was low as he searched Dib’s face with narrowed eyes. “And you belong to Zim.” He turned away to glare out the window again. “You could just ask me, you know.” 

“Well, excuse me for doubting you’re the most _ reliable _ source of information, Zim.” Dib sneered as he pulled himself to his feet and crossed his arms defiantly. “I’d rather just go home and see it for myself instead of having to rely on _ you _.” 

“Some _ home_.” Zim barked out a short and cruel laugh before whirling on Dib with a predatory glint in his narrowed eyes. “Don’t you want to know WHY you were so eager to leave, Earth-boy?” His lips pulled back to bare interlocking teeth. “They all _ hated _ you, you know that, right? And you hated them too. The only being on that filthy rock that could stand being near you at _ all _ had to come to you from a different _ galaxy_.” He grew suddenly serious, all trace of mockery dropping from his tone as he continued with icy finality. “There is _ nothing _for you there, human.” 

Dib’s hands curled into trembling fists at his sides as he sucked a shaky breath through tightly clenched teeth. _ Fuck_, Zim made him so angry sometimes he couldn’t _ breathe _properly. 

“And I suppose you’re Mister Popular back on Irk, right?” Dib spat bitterly, hot anger burning like a lump of smouldering coal embedded deep in his chest. It didn’t matter that this had nothing to do with what they were talking about, he knew this wouldn’t solve anything, and he didn’t care. Right now, Dib wanted escalation, not resolution, he wanted to lash out, wanted to hurt like he was hurting. And out here in the desolate vacuum of space, for better or for worse, they only had each other. “That’s why we’ve been avoiding Irken space, right? Cause they all love you _so much_ that NO ONE has even _ tried _ to contact you since I’ve woken up, right?” Zim went rigid in his seat, his antenna pressed flat against his skull as his face twisted into a snarl, but Dib didn’t let him interrupt, his volume rising to be heard over Zim’s indignant objection. “Well, I guess we’re just two peas in a pod, huh, because _ you _ had to run away to a different galaxy to find someone who could stand being near _ you! _”

“_Shut up! _ ” Zim’s voice was shrill as he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his antenna in his little fists. “You _ horrible_, IDIOT _ thing_, you have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!” There was a waver in the little Irken’s words that let Dib know one of his barbs had struck a nerve. Grim satisfaction curled like oily smoke deep in Dib’s chest as his face split into a vicious, vindictive grin. 

“Oh really, space-boy? Cause _ I _ think that if your precious Tallests _ actually _gave a shit about you, they would hav-” Dib didn’t even finish before Zim’s eyes snapped open, his face twisted in a tight grimace.

“Mothman input command; _ kneel_.” 

And, much to Dib’s surprise, with a whirring hum from his PAK, he _ did_. 

Shock pierced through the veil of anger as Dib’s knees hit the floor, leaving cold dread in its wake as his body obediently bent to commands that weren’t his own. 

“What- what is this?” Dib managed to squawk as Zim drew himself up from the pilot seat on his PAK legs, his face still frozen in that same awful grimace. The human could only watch with dawning fear as his master approached, slender PAK legs glinting cold silver in the low light until Zim loomed over him, one wickedly sharp leg tip pressing threateningly between Dib’s eyes. 

Dib couldn’t think, couldn’t blink, couldn’t even breathe, useless words jumbled and caught tight in his throat, his shaking hands left hanging in the air. He could see his own reflection, wide-eyed and frightened, in Zim’s unblinking magenta eyes, and some detached part of Dib wondered if he was about to watch Zim kill him through that reflection. 

“I _ hate _you.” Zim grit out in a breathless hiss, his entire body rigid and hands balled into trembling fists at his sides. His PAK leg pressed deeper into his human’s skin, and Dib felt the first warm droplet run down the side of his nose and over the swell of his lip. “I-” Zim gasped as though there wasn’t enough air, his shoulders bunching as his face twisted from anger to- Grief? Fear? Dib didn’t know because as quickly as they’d been deployed, Zim’s PAK legs retracted, and the Irken was spinning abruptly on his little heel as soon as his polished black boots hit the floor. He rigidly stormed off to the engine room without a backwards glance.

Dib was left to stare numbly in the little Irken’s wake, his hands dropping limply into his lap without bothering to wipe the trickle of blood off his face. 

He couldn’t stand up, his knees were still locked in a kneeling position.

_ Shit_.

\---

Dib’s legs were cramping so badly from being locked in the same place for so long he was on the verge of tears by the time Zim finally re-emerged from the engine room. 

Zim released him with one word and a dismissive hand wave. His entire demeanour had shifted from rage to strangely chipper as he watched Dib flop onto the ground with a strained groan to gingerly stretch his legs. 

Well, Zim may be over it, but Dib certainly wasn’t.

“What the actual _ fuck_, Zim?” Dib spat venomously as he rolled onto his back, his spine arching around the swell of his PAK. 

“You could have just used the release command yourself, you know.” Zim stated matter-of-factly and planted his hands on his hips. 

“I. Didn’t. KNOW. The. _ Release command_.” Dib could hear the blood rushing in his ears as he gritted his teeth. “Since WHEN could you control my PAK anyway?” 

“Since it was installed.” Zim shrugged mildly. “I told you, you belong to Zim.” His little boot tapped impatiently against the cold tile as his tone shifted to annoyed. “I wouldn’t have to use it if you’d just stop misbehaving.” Dib sputtered his disbelief from the floor. Zim casually continued as he twirled lightly on his feet and headed towards their small kitchenette. “You can wallow on the floor anytime, Earth-boy, right now though we’re supposed to be watching a movie.” 

“_What? _” Dib bolted upright to give his master an incredulous look.

“What?” Zim blinked innocently back. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Dib snorted in indignant disbelief. 

“_What? _” Zim’s face was a mask of genuine confusion.

“I’m not going to _ snuggle _ with you, Zim! You threatened to _ kill _me!” Dib threw his arms up as he exploded. 

“I did not.” Zim scoffed playfully.

“Yes, you _ did_.” Dib pointed stiffly at the small puncture wound between his eyes. “Also, you can control my PAK? That’s super messed up, you know! Do you seriously expect me to just, like, just be _ okay _with that?” 

“If you’d stop fighting me all the time, I wouldn’t HAVE to.” Zim crossed his arms defensively. “Now get up. We’re not arguing about this again.” 

Dib stubbornly crossed his legs to show he had no intention of standing.

“You call me your _ slave _and keep me locked up on this stupid ship without telling me where we’re going or what we’re even doing out here, why WOULDN’T I fight you, Zim?” 

“Because it’s all for you.” Zim nervously ran his hands down the front of his uniform.

“... _ what _?” Dib felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him, icy shock numbing everything else.

“You think _ I _ like that spicy trash you keep insisting on bringing onto my ship?” Zim’s face flinched into a mask of disgust before smoothing to something more sincere. “The movies, the snacks, the horrid, smelly soap, they’re all your favourites.” Small hands toyed with the hem of his tunic as Zim resolutely looked anywhere but at Dib. “You always said you wanted to explore space. Well, here we are.” 

The silence stretched as Dib’s mouth worked mutely, struggling to find the words to express his shock.

“You said you hate me.” Dib’s voice was soft in the low light, no accusation in his tone, simply quiet disbelief. 

“Only sometimes.” Zim shrugged awkwardly, his tone equally low as he wrapped his scrawny arms around his torso and still refused to meet his human’s gaze. “Not always.” 

\---

The movie was not engaging enough to distract Dib from his racing thoughts. Honestly, why was a violent deboner even considered that threatening to a species that didn’t have bones in the first place? 

His gaze kept slipping down to stare at the top of the little head tucked up against his side, the Irken tense beneath their blanket. He knew Zim wasn’t paying attention to the movie either, because his antenna were motionless, pressed defensively flat against his scalp. Dib nervously licked his dry lips and tried to swallow down the strange lump in his throat. 

“Why me?” Zim flinched at Dib’s sudden question, the human’s voice cutting through their heavy silence like a gunshot. “Why did you take me with you?”

“I saved you.” Zim buried his face into Dib’s side, his voice muffled. “So you belong to Zim. I wouldn’t leave what is mine behind.” 

“Why, though?” Dib tilted his head back to watch the muted light from the small screen dance on the ceiling. “Why did you bother saving me in the first place?” 

“We’ll go back once we finish our current mission. To Earth. I promise.” Came Zim’s hesitant reply. “If that will make you happy.” 

“It will.” Dib swallowed thickly. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

For a long time there was no response beyond the soundtrack to the tacky movie still playing out on the screen propped up on Dib’s stomach, neither member of the audience paying it any mind. Dib had just begrudgingly accepted that Zim wasn’t going to answer when the little Irken shifted to press his palm against Dib’s chest. It took a moment for Dib to realize Zim must be feeling his heartbeat before Zim’s words drew Dib back out of his thoughts.

“I know who I am,” Zim’s gloved fingers splayed over Dib’s snug suit, his little hand rising and falling with each of his human’s breaths. “Without you.” He finished lamely as he pulled his face away from Dib’s side to gaze down at the screen again. Dib wrinkled his nose at what had to be the most unsatisfactory answer ever given in all of history and shot a disgruntled look down at his ‘master,’ but the little Irken continued before Dib could voice his displeasure. “It just… doesn’t matter.” Dib blinked his confusion as Zim’s fingers twitched against his chest. “Without the Dib, Zim just… doesn’t matter.” 

Dib didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. They watched the movie in tense silence, just shapes and sounds on a small screen that didn’t sink in at all. 

Dib knew Zim could feel his heart pounding as he gently squeezed the little Irken closer. Zim had been an anchor when Dib felt far-flung out of his depth, it hadn’t occurred to him before that perhaps Zim needed Dib for the same reason.

Normally he would pretend he didn’t notice when Zim looked up at him, pretty magenta eyes wide and unreadable, but this time he met his master’s inscrutable gaze with a nervous determination. They had danced around whatever this was since he’d woken up, and it was in Dib’s nature to crave answers. To seek the _ truth_. 

Zim shifted wordlessly, the soundtrack of the forgotten movie becoming muffled and distorted as the screen was shoved aside onto the wrinkled blanket. Zim splayed both his small hands on Dib’s broad chest, bracing himself where he straddled his human’s waist to carefully scrutinize Dib’s face.

“If you ever leave, it would kill me.” Zim whispered low, intense, like a prayer in the dim light.

Dib held his breath as he reached up to cup Zim’s narrow shoulders. This was too far, too fast, too outrageous to be real. Zim had threatened his life, had told Dib that he hated him, had shown he was capable of very literally controlling him, yet still, yet still. He didn’t fight when Dib lightly tugged the little Irken down, his almond-shaped eyes fluttering shut and his pert little lips parting sweetly in anticipation as Dib craned his neck up to meet him.

Dib knew this was a mess and probably a massive mistake. But, without Dib, Zim didn’t matter, and without Zim, Dib… didn’t know. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his life would look like without Zim as a steady fixture at the center. He couldn’t be certain, but he suspected that hadn’t changed with his accident. And out here in the desolate vacuum of space, for better or for worse, they only had each other. Like two binary stars, destined to orbit and burn in each other’s radiance until they eventually consumed one another completely. 

Dib knew this was fucked up, but he also knew they’d done this before. With the hem of Zim’s tunic hiked up over the swell of his hips and Dib’s fly hastily undone and pants shoved sloppily down his thighs, it felt as though the flesh remembered what Dib couldn’t. It was easy to slip into a rhythm that made the blood sing in their veins, Zim pliant in Dib’s hands, his face soft with pleasure in a way that made Dib’s heart flutter beneath Zim’s sharp little claws. 

They reached their climax together, Zim arched, trembling, with Dib’s name on his lips as his claws dug mercilessly into his human’s flesh. If not for his gloves and Dib’s suit, he would have very literally had Dib’s heart in his hands. Then the life seemed to drain out of the small Irken and with the softest _ ‘click’ _from his PAK, he went completely limp in Dib’s arms.

At first, Dib panicked because he thought he’d somehow damaged Zim, but he soon realized his master wasn’t hurt just… asleep. It was the first time he’d seen Zim actually sleep, his strangely ageless face vulnerable in a way Dib had never seen before. Soft in a way that made him ache deep inside. Dib laid him down on the plush foam and tucked their blanket up over Zim’s shoulders to his chin and curled protectively around him before closing his eyes too.

\---

It was like he’d finally found Zim’s ‘off’ switch.

(Which was a joke Zim didn’t find nearly as funny as Dib did.) 

It was still strange, and Dib wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but if nothing else, sex made for a new and exciting way for their usual petty bickering to end. Zim was as absurd and confusing as he’d ever been. He was both enthusiastic to explore this new territory with his human (thoroughly and frequently), while also being weirdly squeamish about the level of physical intimacy required, staunchly refusing to remove his tunic or gloves. Dib tried not to let it bother him, as exasperating as it was sometimes. Zim had always had a few irrational habits, and Dib could only assume it tied in with his fixation on germs or one of Zim’s other neurotic tics. Or perhaps it was because each and every time, without fail, once Zim had come undone in Dib’s arms, he would shut down with that soft _ ‘click’ _from his PAK. Dib could understand how the thought of being left both unconscious and naked would be a bit too much for someone as obsessed with at least appearing in control as Zim. 

He wasn’t nearly as shy when it came to exploring Dib’s body. He would seem to lose himself in tracing the stark white lines of faded scars peppering his human’s warm flesh, fingertips brushing reverently over skin like he was mapping the stars. Dib would watch as though in a trance, his heart in his throat, as Zim touched him in ways that made him feel both soft and hard at once. There were times where Zim’s claws matched up a little _ too _perfectly with some marks, and the Irken would shoot a wicked, playful look up at Dib as he dug his talons threateningly into the long-healed flesh. Remnants of a shared past that, while forgotten, Dib would carry on his skin for the rest of his days. Sometimes Zim would tell Dib the stories behind his scars. Other times he’d grin widely, clearly pleased by whatever secret memory he kept tucked away, and lean in to drag his long, serpentine tongue along the ridge in Dib’s neck, sending sensuous shivers up his human’s spine. 

Dib would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it on a physical level, at least. The sex itself always felt amazing, no matter who wound up beneath who. It felt so, so good to lose himself in raw sensation; Zim’s lips, his neck, his thighs, and his hips, Dib had eagerly tasted as much of Zim’s soft, unblemished skin as the little Irken would allow. Had wound Zim up and taken him apart with his fingers and tongue until his master quivered and begged for Dib’s body, for completion. As far as ways to pass the time It sure as fuck beat staring listlessly out the window. 

But then Dib would catch the way Zim would look at him, blinking sleepily as he slowly awoke, large magenta eyes uncharastically soft with warm, unnamed emotion that made Dib’s insides twist with guilt. Whatever the root of this was- whatever _ they _ had been- was just as lost to Dib as everything else. He didn’t want to take advantage of Zim, but he just… didn’t know how to say no to the little Irken. He didn’t know if he _ could _ say no. Not when Zim’s eyes darkened with desire as he clutched Dib’s head just a fraction too tightly, _ possessively_, and Dib could already feel his body betraying him, responding to Zim’s violence with an eagerness to dominate or be dominated in turn. So the guilt remained. 

“Why don’t you have any scars?” Dib whispered, his lips brushing lightly against the top of Zim’s head before punctuating his question with a gentle kiss as the little Irken stirred against him, curled up into his chest as yet another movie rolled its credits, forgotten, somewhere on the blanket.

“Hmm?” Zim rubbed his eye with a small fist as Dib rubbed a soothing circle on the small of his back, beneath his PAK. 

“You’ve been in lots of battles, haven’t you?” Dib watched Zim blink blearily up at him before the little Irken’s face split into a tired, smug grin.

“Because Zim always wins.” 

“Zim, so help me, I will suplex you over the edge of this shelf.”

“My PAK takes care of it.” Zim hummed as he lazily nuzzled into his human’s chest with a contented sigh, clearly nonplussed by Dib’s flat threat. “It would take an extremely severe injury to leave a scar.” Dib blinked as a thought occurred to him.

“Why do _I_ have so many scars?” 

“They’re from before your PAK was installed, _ obviously_, Dib-idiot.” Zim’s voice was muffled where he was starting to drift off again. He squawked indignantly when Dib pinched the back of his scrawny arm for the insult. 

“When was my PAK installed?” Dib propped himself up on his elbow.

“When I saved your worthless and entirely loathsome life.” Zim grumbled mutinously as he rubbed his arm. “If the Dib-thing doesn’t shut up and provide his warmth like he’s supposed to, Zim will super-flex _ you _over the edge of this shelf.”

“Yeah, right, I’d like to see you try.” Dib rolled his eyes but settled down onto the foam mat without further complaint to take Zim back into his arms. 

Silence fell over the two as Zim melted into the warmth of his human’s embrace, the only sound coming from the distant humming of the ship engine. Dib absently rubbed the base of Zim’s antenna until he could feel more than hear the soft rumble of the Irken quietly purring. Honestly, this was probably as close to perfect that either of them was ever going to get, yet still, yet still, the guilt remained.

He shifted from rubbing the base of Zim’s antenna to smooth his rough palm down the back of the Irken’s head to gently tilt Zim’s face up to meet his gaze. Zim blinked up at him, slow and trusting, eyes bright and clear in the low light, as striking as always. 

“Is this…Were we?” Dib pointed vaguely between them before he licked his dry lips and nervously started again. “Were we… like _ this _before my PAK was installed? Is that why you saved me?”

“Does it matter?” Zim’s eyes narrowed, a hard note sharpening the edge of his tone. Dib pursed his lips and quickly glanced away. 

“I’m sorry.” his brows furrowed as he tried to sort out what he was trying to say. “I’m, I mean, I _ must _ be… different. Now.” He chanced a glance down at Zim. “From what I was, you know, before the accident. From when… From when this- when _ we _started.” Zim pressed his lips into a tight line and careful scanned Dib’s face for a long while.

“Of course you’re different now.” Zim finally breathed softly, his gaze slipped away from Dib’s face as he leaned forward to gently bump his forehead against Dib’s chest. Dib could feel the little Irken nervously smooth his hands down the front of his uniform beneath their blanket, gently stroking down the length of his stomach. “You used to be… crueller. To Zim.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dib’s voice cracked slightly, it felt as though everything inside of him stilled as a small voice deep down softly whispered that he probably didn’t want to know. There was another pause before Zim peeked back up, looking strangely guilty as he searched Dib’s face again.

“I… hurt you. Sometimes.” Zim’s gaze flicked away nervously. That was hardly a surprise, Dib had more than enough evidence of that etched into his skin. “But you hurt me too. A lot.” Tiny hands curled into tight fists against Zim’s ribs beneath the blanket. “But I’m not afraid of pain. Not if it’s you.” Large magenta eyes flicked back to meet Dib’s, too wide, too bright. “The Dib _ adores _Zim, so I don’t mind if it hurts sometimes.” He smiled sweetly in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The Tallests used to hurt me back when they still adored me too.”

\---

Zim wouldn’t tell Dib how he’d hurt the little Irken, would pretend to not know what he was talking about when Dib tried to get him to open up about what his leaders had done either. For the life of him, Dib couldn’t figure out who Zim was attempting to protect with his vehement denials- Dib or himself. He didn’t know which option made his stomach twist more, so the guilt remained. 

If anything, they wound up fighting _ more _ because of it. Zim stubbornly refused to talk about Dib’s past or even _ imply _ anything negative about his Tallests and would storm off to hide in the engine room when Dib inevitably pushed him too far. At least he restrained from forcing Dib to obey his commands via his PAK. Still, this cycle of walking on eggshells, arguing, loaded silence, and Zim acting syrupy sweet to apologize for his behaviour without actually apologizing was wearing him down. Dib was sure it was wearing them both down. But at the same time, he couldn’t just drop it. It was in his nature to seek the truth. He _ needed _to know what had happened, what he’d done, otherwise he’d be left to imagine all sorts of nightmarish scenarios that would eat him alive. 

On the upside, Zim’s more frequent disappearances at least gave Dib some time alone to rummage through the ship. It was that or sit and stew and, for his own sanity, sorting through the pantry and storage lockers was the more appealing option. 

For the most part, he didn’t find anything remarkable. His most noteworthy discovery came tucked away in the back of the highest shelf in one of the storage lockers; A small stack of books that had once belonged to _ him_. The translator in his PAK made quick work of the small, oddly round, alien letters contained within the pages, the words of what was once his mother tongue jumping out at him as he flipped through the books in numb disbelief. Dib didn’t know why, but he didn’t tell Zim what he’d discovered (though if he were honest, the answer would be spite). The books became something of an escape after their arguments. When Zim would lock himself away, Dib would grab whichever book was closest and furiously read whatever pages he cracked the book open to until he heard the engine room door hiss open again. 

One of the books quickly became Dib’s favourite due to its short and informational format. He didn’t have to think about following a plotline like the other books. He could flip to an image that was appealing and read from there. It appeared to be a manual detailing particular Earth creatures- bigfeets, chupacabra, demons- typical Earth fauna, from what he could gather. What made the book actually remarkable was contained in the thin margins; Spidery notes hastily penned in blue ink next to specific passages- _ Dib’s _ notes, back from another time, another _ life_. 

For the most part, the books were a source of comfort. Something solid tying Dib to the past he’d lost, a small window to look back on what he’d once been. Proof that he was still _ Dib_, that his accident hadn’t taken that away from him. He couldn’t help but smile sometimes reading through his messy notes, even penned in a language he couldn’t remember his tone remained the same. The book helped him feel grounded. 

Or at least it used to.

He held the book in numb shock, dread creeping down his spine like ice crystals across a windowpane. In his hands the book lay open to a chapter titled ‘_Mothman_.’ 

A stark red line had been struck beneath the hunched creature in the illustration’s eyes like an ugly wound and, in the same bold ink, shaky Irken words were scrawled across the plain black text of the attached page, just one short sentence that made his blood run cold:

_ He’s lying to you _

\---

Dib couldn’t stop thinking about that one line.

He had checked every other page in the thin manual, checked every page of all the other books, but there was nothing else. No more Irken letters, no more red ink, nothing. 

So he revisited the page over and over. Dib could only assume he was the intended recipient, but who had written the message, and what did it mean? (Perhaps it was just the same paranoia that had plagued him since after his accident, but deep down, Dib knew _ he’d _left the message- but why?) The short chapter itself didn’t clear anything up either. Beyond the initial jarring alarm of seeing the creature in question had the same code name as what Zim used to assume command of Dib’s PAK, there really wasn’t any other relevant information in the book. The creature in question appeared entirely unrelated to either Dib or Zim. 

(Beyond the myth that catching sight of the Mothman was an ill omen of oncoming tragedy.)

Obviously, it didn’t help Dib’s gnawing paranoia, and now he found himself viewing Zim and his stubborn secretiveness with ever-growing suspicion. And with his suspicion came a debilitating sense of helplessness and simmering resentment. Zim controlled _ everything _ on their small ship- the controls, their destination, their mission, potentially even Dib himself if he didn’t submit to his master’s command. Still, the little Irken insisted it was all for Dib, that the life they’d built suffocatingly entwined together like two snakes trying to devour each other was _ perfect_. 

And, on some level, it _ was_. There was something grimly satisfying about the smothering hold Zim had on him and that he had on Zim in return. The little Irken had confessed that to lose Dib would kill him, that he would die without his precious human, that he only had meaning when Dib’s eyes were locked on him and him alone, and that heady knowledge was intoxicating in its own twisted way. Because it meant that even as Zim controlled Dib, in the end, Dib controlled Zim too. And Dib would be lying if he tried to claim that power didn’t come with its own thrill. If Zim hadn’t brought up Dib’s past cruelties and if he hadn’t found the book, he probably would have felt the same as Zim; That in its own obsessive, co-dependent way, this little slice they’d carved away from the rest of reality for just the two of them was _ perfect_. 

Or perhaps Dib would have grown suspicious on his own in due time. It was in his nature to be curious, after all, to want to uncover the truth. Perhaps it was inevitable that Dib’s insatiable thirst for knowledge, left unsatisfied by what he could access on the ship itself, would eventually turn to speculate about what was hidden behind the engine room door.

So he had knelt at the base of the pilot seat to gently cup Zim’s face and kissed him like he was something unutterably precious beneath the endless expanse of stars. And, on some level, he _ was_. Just as Zim couldn’t live without Dib, Dib couldn’t imagine a life without Zim either, or at least not one with any sort of meaning. Was this how it felt to be in love? Simmering anger and gnawing guilt burned bright in his chest, one flame feeding the other until it felt like his ribs would burst trying to contain it, yet still, yet still. He touched his master with warm reverence, worshiped his petite body in all the ways he knew would take the small Irken apart as they made love like they hadn’t since Zim had alluded to their troubled past. 

Sure enough, Zim curled up into the depths of the pilot seat and with the softest _ ‘click’ _from his PAK, he was fast asleep. Dib took a moment to drink in Zim’s face; sweet, open, completely unsuspecting. He wanted this to be real. He wanted to waste his life away sitting on the floor, leaning against the control panel, chatting on an on with Zim about nothing and everything. Wanted to whittle the hours away idly grazing on spicy Plooka Ploofs and watching cheesy movies and having stupid arguments that ended in rough sex and curling ever tighter around each other while the rest of the universe slipped by unnoticed. But Dib knew too much, and not enough, to keep swallowing the lie. He had to know. Even as his heart was breaking, he had to see the truth.

The engine room door slid open with more ease then Dib felt it should have. He flinched reflexively away from the entrance, the recovery pod where Dib’s journey had begun looming behind him like a grim spectre while Zim’s warning from long ago echoed in the back of his mind.

_ “Stay out of the engine room. Your ugly, pulpy body isn’t designed to go in there.” _

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to greet him on the other side. He tentatively poked his head past the doorway to nervously check for any immediate dangers, but nothing jumped out at him. It appeared to be exactly what Zim had called it: an engine room. Pipes and gauges ran across the ceiling while twisted wires dominated the floor of the dimly lit room leading to hulking machinery beyond what Dib could identify, but there was nothing that stood out as obviously hazardous. 

//What do you require, human Dib?// Dib jumped at the voice with a sharp gasp and rapidly searched for the source of his unexpected company. //Unless, of course, you’re just here to sulk.// He could _ hear _the source of the voice roll their eyes. 

“Who are you?” Dib barked back with more confidence then he felt as he raised himself up onto his PAK legs and squinted into the dimly lit room. The voice sighed in response, clearly unimpressed by the human’s display.

//I am the ship AI, human Dib.// Dib blinked in surprise as his gaze flicked over to the softly glowing main computer terminal located across from the large walled off machinery that lead to the engine itself. //You already know that.// It added flatly. //Now what do you require?// 

“Um?” Dib retracted his PAK legs and landed lightly on his feet as his mind raced. He required answers more than anything, but where to start? And could the central AI really help him? Would it even have an answer to ‘so I think I wrote this cryptic and spooky thing in a book one time, do you know why I’d do that?’. Not to mention, he wasn’t totally sure how much time he had before Zim woke up and realized where Dib had gone. He approached the terminal carefully before he finally spoke. “Where are we going?” He decided it would be best to start with the most straightforward questions and work his way up from there. 

//There is no current programmed destination.// The AI chirped agreeably as Dib froze mid-step. //Our current course is set to follow Plookesian Deep-Space Trade Route 7-32125.//

“What- but- what about our mission?” Dib sputtered, things had already gone off the rails with one single question. 

//Mission status is unknown. This vessel has received zero communications from the Irken Empire in 593 standard logars. As it stands there is no primary, secondary, or tertiary missions of any level of importance logged into my memory bank.//

Dib licked his dry lips and stared blankly down at the tight fists he’d leaned against the edge of the main terminal, his knuckles white in the low light. He had no idea how long a ‘standard logar’ was supposed to be, but he couldn’t fight the sinking feeling that 593 of them probably made up a long, long time. So Zim had been lying about literally everything. But _ why? _ What was even the point? Surely he had to know that Dib would find out eventually. Had the person he’d been before his accident known the truth? Why bother lying to him after? He tilted his head back to gaze up at the computer screen as a thought suddenly struck him.

“Can_ I _ input a destination?”

//Someone may as well.// The computer sniffed dismissively. 

“Then set a course to Earth.” 

//Impossible.// Dib blinked in a moment of surprise before his expression darkened.

“Why not?” He snapped back as he banged his fists against the surface of the terminal. 

“Do NOT answer that!” Dib whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice to meet Zim’s burning gaze, the little Irken’s face tight with fury where he loomed on his PAK legs, blocking off the entrance. “I _ told _ you to stay OUT of the engine room! Why do you _ always _disobey me?!” Zim’s voice was shrill as he reached up to pull his own antenna in palpable frustration, but Dib was not going to be intimidated. He felt himself rise into the air on his own PAK legs in response as his face twisted into a snarl.

“Why can’t we return to Earth, Zim?” Dib spat. “It’s not like we’re ACTUALLY going anywhere else!” 

“WHY do you even CARE?” Zim threw his arms wide in exasperation, his wild eyes glowing faintly, ominously, in the dimly lit room. “You _ hated _ it there! And you have EVERYTHING right _ here _already!”

“WHY can’t we go back?!” Dib snapped again, bitter anger twisting in his chest like a blade. 

“I am NEVER going back to that _ wretched _ place with it’s _ horrid, awful humans-! _ ” Zim’s tiny hands twisted tightly into the front of his uniform as he curled into himself with a disgusted grimace. “That filthy _ wasteland _ was only ever a source of _ pain _for us both!” 

“Stop lying to me, Zim.” Dib managed to grind out as he took a slow, threatening step forward. 

“Lying?” Zim scoffed mercilessly. “Where do you think most of your ugly scars came from, Dib-idiot? They only ever brought out the WORST in you!” 

“Stop _ lying _to me!” 

“I’m not _ lying! _” 

“All you’ve EVER done is lie to me!” Hot tears he refused to let fall pricked dangerously behind Dib’s eyes, a seemingly bottomless well of bottled frustration and paranoia finally overflowing its stone walls as he wildly thrust one of his sharp PAK legs at his master. 

“All I’ve ever done is _ help _ you!” Zim spat back as he fluidly dodged and levelled a knife-sharp leg at Dib in return. “And all _ you’ve _ever done is FIGHT me for it!” 

“You NEVER helped me! You just locked me up in a gilded cage!” Dib darted to the left, the sharpened tip ripping through the sleeve of his suit, leaving a thin line of violent red to seep blood down his arm. 

“_You locked me up first! _” There was a hysterical edge to Zim’s scream as he knotted his tiny hands over his stomach that made Dib pause.

“_What? _” Dib’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

The little Irken grit his interlocking teeth as he sucked in a shaky breath and gingerly tugged up the hem of his tunic to reveal a thick white scar stark against his ivy skin running up the length of his stomach to end in two branching points, like a_ ‘Y’ _ over his narrow ribs. 

“Humans were _ monsters_,” Zim hissed, the hem of his tunic fluttering back down over his hips as he roughly scrubbed his gloved hand over his eyes, angrily rubbing away any evidence of how deeply acknowledging his scar affected him. “And when _ you _ were around them you wanted to be _ just like them_.” He pulled his hands away from his face, his eyes too wide, too bright, as he lurched towards Dib. “So, you see? You’re _ better _here with me.”

“Why-?” Dib’s voice was small as he shakily backed away from the unstable little Irken. “Why would you take me if all I ever did was- was _ hurt _you?” 

“Because the Dib _ adores _ Zim.” Zim purred. “You would use your scalpels and needles to take your awful _ samples_, but when no one else was around, you would- with your fat fingers and filthy tongue- you would touch Zim in different ways.” Zim’s little claw tips ghosted lightly over his cheeks as his eyelids fluttered slightly at the memory. “It hurt, at first, but it got easier. And I was so- was so _ happy _ because that’s how I _ knew_. Back in Skool, Ms. Bitters said that sort of thing only happens when two people love each other very much.” Zim’s voice dropped as he hugged his thin shoulders tightly and loomed over Dib. “And Zim and Dib _ love _ each other _ very much_.” 

“Zim, that’s _ not- _ ” Dib choked while slowly shaking his head. “That’s not what people who _ love _ each other- oh god, I’m sorry, I’m _ so sorry- _” 

“_Stop it! _ ” Zim’s face twisted as his little hands suddenly gripped his antenna again. “Don’t you DARE say that!” He reared back, two PAK legs glinting like knives in the low light as he lunged downward, Dib’s eyes widened, and he lept backwards away from the unexpected onslaught. “You’re not _ allowed _ to be _ sorry!_ Don’t you DARE _ regret _ this- regret _ us! _ You're not allowed to leave me behind! You’re not allowed to leave me _ ever again! _” 

“Listen to yourself!” Dib cried as he darted forward, his PAK leg sweeping up with deadly precision only to be deftly dodged by his master. “All we’ve EVER done is _ hurt _ each other! Is this what you really _ want_, Zim?” His voice dropped to a low, pleading tone. “Zim, please, _ please_, just let me go _ home_.” 

“You don’t _ have _ a home.” Zim spat viciously. “Zim _ always _ wins, in the end. Your filthy rock is _ gone_. All the Dib has left is _ me_.”

“You’re lying.” Dib breathed, his eyes widening in horror.

“Computer?” Zim sniffed as he drew himself up to his full height on his PAK legs.

//Uh, that is correct, planet Urth was terminated by Irken Zim approximately 593 standard logars ago.// 

“_You- _ ” Dib couldn’t recognize his own voice, rage threatening to choke him completely as his hands curled into trembling fists at his side. He vaulted forward with a garbled shriek, anticipating Zim’s lunge to the right and finally managed to grab hold of the little Irken. They crashed to the ground in a snare of spitting violence, a desperate mess of teeth and claws. Zim managed to level a solid kick into Dib’s solar plexus and quickly scampered out of his grasp as the human reflexively arched away. 

“_Why-? _” Dib managed to wheeze around the crushing weight of despair (and the urge to vomit) as he wrapped an arm around his stomach. 

“They weren’t coming.” Zim’s voice was small, his eyes wide as he stared at Dib like he’d never seen him before. “My Tall-” His voice broke. “They sent Zim away, and they _ forgot-_” He took a deep breath to center himself and steadily met Dib’s gaze, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, you dragged me off to that horrid _ lab _ with the cold table and the bright lights and those awful little _ pins and scalpels_.” His voice shifted to something softer, almost dreamy. “But as long as you adored me, as long as the Dib’s eyes were on me and me _ alone_, I could endure.” The poison crept back as his tone switched to a bitter accusatory sneer. “Still, even though you loved me, you thought you could leave me behind in that tiny tube with wires in my skin because you were_ so sorry _ about what you’d done to poor Zim when the other idiot scientists weren’t around. As if, after _everything,_ THAT'S what you should have been _sorry_ about.” His face twisted into a hurt snarl. “But Zim would NOT be forgotten again, not by _ you_.” He turned away to visibly collect himself for a moment, his face smoothing back to that soft, dreamy look as he leaned forward to delicately crawl towards his human. “But it’s ok now, it’s all over, and I forgive you because we love each other very much.” 

“No, you don’t.” Dib shook his head as he scooted away from the Irken’s embrace. “You _ hate _me.”

“Only when you insist on disobeying me.” Zim was quick to reply.

“Well, I’m going to _ keep _ disobeying you, Zim, because you’re a _ lunatic_.” Dib spat defiantly, white-hot hatred burning bright in his chest as his PAK bumped up against the main computer terminal with a sharp clang of metal against metal. “I will _ never _ be your obedient little _ pet_. You shouldn't have spared me.” It was a long time before Zim responded.

“I didn’t.” He breathed softly as he carefully searched Dib’s face. “You were the first to die. You wouldn’t love me, so I made sure you wouldn’t stop me either. So I could finally go _ home_.” His gaze guiltily flicked away. "And I was... angry. At you. No one makes me as angry as you do, sometimes." Dib numbly reached up to lightly trace his fingertips over the deep ridge in his neck. “But even though I’d finally completed my mission, my Tallests, they didn’t- when they wouldn’t respond to my transmissions- I, I couldn’t… I _ couldn’t- _ ” Zim swallowed thickly and murmured in that soft, dreamy tone, undermined with a note of hollow desolation. "Without you, I'm nothing." He swayed slightly on his hands and knees but didn't crawl any closer. He looked so small, wide-eyed and lost far, far out of his depths. “_Getting _ the PAK was the hardest part. They don't just _give_ those away, you know? Once it was installed, I just stitched you back together and it took care of the rest.” His eyes meet Dib’s once more, large and pleading, as he whispered. “The Dib _ belongs _ to Zim. The only home you need is _ me_.” His eyes narrowed to half-lidded slits as he finished with a low purr of utter finality. “And all I need is _ you_.” 

“Why won’t you just let me go?” Dib’s voice was low, raw, as the hot tears finally spilled over. “I hate you.” Zim froze, clearly taken aback, his almond-shaped eyes popping wide like he’d been slapped as Dib sucked in a shaky breath. Dib's lips pulled back to bare his blunt teeth and he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, as though he could physically hold himself together even as he emotionally fell apart. “I _ hate _you.” He curled tighter into himself, away from Zim, away from the gilded cage his master had lovingly crafted just for him, as the tears began to fall in earnest. Zim slowly sank down to sit on the floor, his shoulders bunched as his little hands curled into useless fists against the ground, his trembling lips pressed into a thin, tight line as his antenna pressed miserably flat against his scalp.

“Only sometimes.” His voice was barely a whisper, his large magenta eyes swimming with tears he stubbornly refused to let fall. “Not always.” Zim swallowed thickly before he continued, his voice firmer than before. “Mothman input command; goodbye.”

Dib’s eyes popped open as he whirled towards Zim with clear alarm etched into his face the moment he registered the keyphrase. However, that was all he could do before his PAK completely shut down with a soft_ ‘click,’_ automatically wiping all stored data and instantly ceasing all functions in both the PAK and the host body. Zim watched dispassionately as the light faded from Dib's eyes, still fixed wide with mute surprise, as his human went completely limp and crumpled bonelessly to the floor. 

For a beat, there was no noise beyond the churning of the engine as Zim slowly hunched low and curled tightly into himself. Only a soft, shaky gasp broke the silence as the tears fell, hot and shameful, to spatter meaninglessly against his tightly balled fists on the floor. 

Despite his best efforts, Zim found himself utterly, crushingly alone once more, and he couldn’t understand why, why, _why_, seemingly no matter what he did or how obedient he was, the ones he adored, adored, _ adored _ were always so desperate to _ leave _him.

\---

He awoke abruptly before the pod had even finished draining. Dib flailed out into the darkness, his knuckles and knees cracking against the metal hatch in raw, instinctual panic. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt, if anything. All he could recall before this moment of blind fear was total, all-consuming, darkness, a void from which nothing escaped. Still, horror remained. The hatch swung open with a soft hiss and Dib bolted upright from his claustrophobic holding to desperately gulp the sweet air beyond, his knuckles white against the edges of the pod. 

It took him a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart before he attempted to take stock of his blurry surroundings, his mind already racing to make sense of the situation. But there was… nothing. Dib pressed a hand to his forehead, curling his fingers into his wet hair so tight it actually hurt, but nothing came. His brow furrowed, warm brown eyes rapidly flicked back and forth, unseeing- there was _ nothing_. His heart fluttered anxiously in his chest as he felt his breaths come quick and shallow. He knew- he knew he was Dib, but it was like a thick, black curtain had been tightly drawn beyond that. 

“You are so melodramatic, just, all the time, you know that, right?” Dib ripped his hand away from his face with a startled cry as his gaze whipped towards the sound of the stranger’s flat voice. He squinted, everything was so _ blurry_, as the same voice, belonging to a fuzzy pink blob nestled into what was probably a chair at his side, released a heavy, put-upon sigh. Its blurry arm moved in a lazy underhand motion and Dib jolted as something small and light land in his lap. Upon closer inspection, it was a pair of glasses, which he sheepishly put on, the twisted shadows around him jumping to sudden, sharp focus. 

Sure enough, the voice belonged to a small, vibrantly green boy in a magenta tunic, sitting crossed-legged in a plush chair with his arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed look etched into his strangely ageless face. 

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Dib-stink.” Dib blinked in surprise at the sudden onslaught as the much smaller boy huffed indignantly and pulled himself up from his chair. He took a moment to straighten the hem of his uniform before pinning Dib with an imperious look. “I am the incredible Zim, and all _ you _ need to know is that I saved your miserable and entirely unworthy life.” Zim’s lips pulled back into a cruel grin, his eyes shining in the low light, something dark and smug curling in his tone. “Which makes you my _ property_, Dib-thing.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry :T
> 
> I feel like I probably shouldn't have to say this, but just a quick disclaimer- I do NOT condone this sort of relationship, and both of these poor, awful boys need like a decade of serious therapy because, as it is, all they know how to do is hurt each other. Don't get me wrong, I LIVE for fan works where these two dorks intense rivalry winds ups being a stepping stone towards a more healthy relationship based on mutual respect. It's my jam :9 But my brain just wouldn't let go of the thought of 'but what if... they DIDN'T have that positive development? What if they never dealt with their respective traumas to allow them to grow as characters and just let this obsessive codependence REALLY fester? Nothing but good things are bound to happen, surely'
> 
> If you're looking for a lighter palate-cleanser, I'm sure there's lots of significantly sweeter fluff going on at the zadr week; phase 2 tumblr, feel free to check them out right here: [ZaDr week; Phase 2](https://zadrweekphase2.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and have a lovely day <3


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